


i'm almost me again, he's almost you

by stvrmhondss



Series: the magicians x narnia [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Just not yet, M/M, caspian is the perfect man, eliot is mentioned a Lot, i swear it's gonna end with queliot at some point, no beta we die like men, quentin is in his head a lot, quentin is very conflicted and has a few emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24421948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stvrmhondss/pseuds/stvrmhondss
Summary: As Quentin swung his leg over the back of the horse, he felt Caspian’s hands coming up to hold his waist to support him. He was going to die. Write it on his headstone: Here lies Quentin Coldwater, beloved son, died literally at the hands of a hot fairytale prince. Naturally, a blush spread over his cheeks. Both feet on the ground, he tried to play it off knowing very well that he wasn’t succeeding at all due to the grin on Caspian’s face. Fucking fairytale prince and his fucking flirting. Some people needed their hearts to function properly.or Caspian and Quentin go exploring, Quentin is conflicted.
Relationships: Caspian (Narnia)/Quentin Coldwater, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: the magicians x narnia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759528
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	i'm almost me again, he's almost you

Quentin wasn’t blind. He knew when people were interested in him and he could sure as fuck see when someone was flirting with him as unabashedly as Caspian was. He just didn’t know how to react besides going beet red, stuttering and giggling – those were a reflex, he couldn’t help himself.

Caspian was _very_ attractive, tall and lean with almost artfully tousled dark hair. He was witty and clever, incredibly kind and compassionate, charming and chivalrous, always offering him his hand or arm to guide him. Quentin made himself willfully ignore the fact that all of the above also applied to another king of a different fantasy land he knew. 

It was fine. Eliot hadn’t been really talking to him but it was fine. Just, ever since they had arrived in Narnia and Caspian had appeared from behind a tree, Eliot’s mood had been going steadily downhill. He’d barely talked to anyone that wasn’t Margo and definitely purposefully avoided him. It was a mystery to Quentin. Had he done something wrong? Had he been too clingy too soon after _that_ night? Was Eliot not yet ready to continue their friendship?

He’d thought they were on the same page after the coronation, had thought that maybe things were going to be ok. He had, despite himself, even hoped, just a little, that there could be…more. It was only logical, of course, that he’d been wrong about that. Why shouldn’t Eliot want some time and space away from him? He’d been stuck with Quentin for weeks, preparing for and fighting the Beast, now was the perfect time to get some distance. Really, it was fine.

But Eliot wasn’t just acting strange towards him, though. He was snappy, rarely gave more than one-word answers and was generally huffy. Quentin didn’t understand why. Yes, their little detour to Narnia was unplanned and Penny’s GPS problems certainly were an inconvenience. They also had a kingdom waiting for them, waiting to be ruled and taken care of. But Narnia wasn’t so bad. Even though it was another childhood story come true, it wasn’t as twisted as Fillory was, not as at times strangely nightmarish. Narnia seemed softer at the edges, with birds singing all day and rivers calmly flowing through the land. It was almost…peaceful. A ruler not set on murdering them surely helped that image as well.

Which brought Quentin’s thoughts back to Caspian once more. He’d been way too kind and forthcoming considering they had appeared in his country out of nowhere. He was even letting them stay at his castle, Cair Paravel, and was sparing neither trouble nor expense to have them accommodated comfortably.

He was too generous, especially considering, again, how Eliot had been behaving so far. Quentin could somewhat handle Eliot not talking to him but he also let out his bad mood on Caspian. He gave him the same one-word answers, rarely addressed him by his title – when he did, he did so almost mockingly – and tended to roll his eyes at Caspian behind his back but also when he was sure he could see it. Quentin had no idea what had gotten into him. Eliot’s behavior was almost embarrassing and certainly rude and yet Caspian took it all gracefully, not once snapping back, always composed and kind – so, so kind. Quentin admired him for it.

Eliot’s bad mood also didn’t stop Caspian from offering his help: He had sent his scholars to research and find answers to Penny’s travelling troubles. When they had protested the scholars shouldering all the work alone, he’d insisted and had told them not to worry but rather enjoy this newfound opportunity for exploring.

So, they did.

They had gone on a tour of Narnia’s coast and bays on Caspian’s ship, the Dawn Treader. It had been a dream come true, sailing along the coastline, ocean breeze in his face and the vast ocean in front of him. Caspian had told him the story of how he’d build the Dawn Treader through hours of relearning the traditional Narnian way of shipbuilding and then teaching it to his fellow Narnians. He had also shown him how to steer the ship, though he must’ve not been very good at it, since halfway through Caspian had put his hands over his from behind, helping him navigate. If Quentin closed his eyes, he could still feel his strong arms around him, could hear him whisper landmarks he’d pointed out on the coast in his ear.

Eliot had steadfastly ignored him the entire time, always turning away just as Quentin was trying to catch his eye.

They were also going off to explore on their own.

Alice had been given free reign of Cair Paravel’s library and archives and was thus speed-reading books and engulfing all there was to know about Narnia’s brand of magic. Every day she disappeared right after breakfast and only showed up again at dinner. Quentin hoped she had fun. He really wanted her to be ok.

Margo, surprisingly, had made quick friends with a few of the talking animals on Caspian’s counsel. The last time he had seen her, she’d been sitting with a glass of wine in the gardens with Caspian’s infrastructure adviser, a badger called Honeyburrow. She’d told Quentin she was getting political advice on running a fantasy kingdom with all its nooks and crannies, but it felt like she was really primarily there for Honeyburrow’s humor and court gossip. He couldn’t blame her, the badger was fucking hilarious.

Penny was in and out of the laboratories, the scholars putting their theories to test and asking Penny seemingly every question under the sun. When he wasn’t there, he was chilling in the gardens presumably waiting for when they could go back home.

Quentin didn’t know what Eliot was doing all day. Probably pouting in the room he’d been given, staring at the wall and generally not being helpful. But he wasn’t interested about what Eliot was doing, really. For all Quentin cared he could mope until the day they went back home.

Quentin himself had been exploring but contrary to his friends, he always had a guide: Caspian. He had lead him through the castle, explaining to him how Cair Paravel had been Narnia’s shining capital during the Golden Age, the rule of the Pevensie Kings and Queens, and how it had then fallen into disrepair after the Telmarine Conquest. How Caspian and his people then restored and rebuilt it after the Revolution. Quentin had been enthralled. He had been able to picture it: A splendid capital, ruled by two kings and two queens. The horror of the Telmarine occupation, the castle fading into obscurity. Caspian, barely grown up, rallying the Narnians with the help of the Pevensies, defeating his uncle and freeing Narnia. It was straight out of a storybook. The irony hadn’t been lost on him.

Still, Quentin loved hearing those stories, the history of this strange country they’ve stumbled upon and Caspian had a lot of them to tell. Quentin’s favorite was the one of the Winter Revolution. The reign of the White Witch, the arrival of Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy Pevensie and the subsequent kidnapping of Edmund. How the Great Lion Aslan had sacrificed his own life to save young Edmund, the Battle of Beruna and Aslan’s miraculous return. Every time they set out to explore, Caspian told him something new, a detail he hadn’t thought of before when he’d told the story. Quentin could listen to him talk all day, with how he changed the pitch of his voice depending on the part of the story they were at, how he gave everyone a voice and with this hint of an accent Quentin couldn’t place. Caspian was a born storyteller.

“We’re here”, he was startled out of his thoughts by Caspian’s voice, “the hill at the other end of this field is Aslan’s How. The Stone Table is beneath it, through the catacombs.”

This Morning Caspian had suggested they actually visit one of these historic sites he kept telling him about and had asked Quentin if he’d want to go to Aslan’s How with him. Quentin hadn’t hesitated to say yes, already excited at the prospect.

So, they had taken two horses from the stables and ridden south-west towards the broad field where Caspian himself had fought his uncle’s men. Thank god for junior cowboy camp.

Now Quentin could see the hill looming at the end of the meadow, with its stone-pillared entrance. He felt the urge to pinch himself to ensure this wasn’t a dream. Even though he had never actually read the Narnia books by Lewis, he had engaged in enough online forum arguments about the merit of Fillory and Further as Plover’s answer to Narnia over the years to know the main points. Enough to know how important this place was and he couldn’t help but feel excitement hum through his veins.

He hadn’t noticed Caspian dismounting his horse and moving to stand next to him, so his next question jolted him out of his thoughts yet again.

“Are you still with me?”, he said with a chuckle.

“Oh- I. Yes, I’m- this is just so-“, Quentin was at a loss for words.

“Exciting? Yes, I know. When I was here for the first time I was in utter awe of it all.”, he smiled at him, “Now, may I help you?”

Caspian looked pointedly at the horse he was still sitting atop.

“Oh, I-! Yes, please!”

As Quentin swung his leg over the back of the horse, he felt Caspian’s hands coming up to hold his waist to support him. He was going to die. Write it on his headstone: Here lies Quentin Coldwater, beloved son, died literally at the hands of a hot fairytale prince. Naturally, a blush spread over his cheeks. Both feet on the ground, he tried to play it off knowing very well that he wasn’t succeeding at all due to the grin on Caspian’s face. Fucking fairytale prince and his fucking flirting. Some people needed their hearts to function properly.

He didn’t actually mind the flirting, not at all. As shallow as it sounded, Quentin sort of enjoyed the attention he was receiving. It felt like a novelty – very few people had ever wanted to actively flirt with him. The only thing that was bothering him was the Eliot of it all. Eliot, who from an outsider’s perspective should have absolutely nothing to do with this but had everything to do with this. Eliot, who had not left his thoughts since the moment they’d met. Eliot, who had become his friend almost instantly. Eliot, who’d had slept with him. Eliot, who was currently avoiding him like the plague.

It was a mess because this was Quentin’s life and this is how things worked around here. He told himself to stop thinking about Eliot for once and to just enjoy it. It was just a flirt, no strings attached, and he liked Caspian. He just wanted to have fun for a change.

They tied their horses to a tree next to a little creek and made their way across the field. A silence came up between them but it was not an uncomfortable one. Caspian indulged Quentin as looked around the clearing with big eyes, taking everything in: the vast plains, the impressive hill at the end, the stone structure leading up to it. Everything was a bit overgrown, nature taking over as if no one had been here for some time. It was breathtaking.

They reached a plateau made out of stone, a paved path leading from it directly to the entrance of the How. Caspian stopped and turned, eyes wandering and taking it all in.

“This is where Peter and my uncle fought.”, his gaze landed back on Quentin, “It feels like it was ages ago but also somehow as if it was only yesterday. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

The expression on his face turned a bit sheepish.

“No, no, I know what you mean. Remembering it makes you feel so old and weary as if it had all happened decades ago but the memories of it are burned into your head so vividly as if it had been only a day. I know what that feels like.”, Quentin responded, his voice turning softer. He thought of the fight with the Beast: Him almost losing his arm. Alice being close to turning into a Niffin. Eliot and Margo dying, being brought back and then nearly dying again. Penny losing his hands. The memories were crystal clear. They exhausted him.

Caspian gave him a gentle smile and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

Quentin had no other choice but to return it.

When they reached the entrance of the How, peering into the dark passage leading down to the tomb, Caspian had a sudden realization.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry- I- It’s so dark down there. There are still torches on the walls but I forgot to bring anything to light them.”, he let go of his hand and turned towards him.

“Don’t worry, that’s not a problem.”, Quentin responded, “The torches are still there, you said?” And with a roll of his fingers and a snap the torches ignited. One of the first things the group had done after getting settled at the Cair was figuring out the new circumstances for casting in Narnia. They didn’t need to make their lives more difficult than they already were.

“Wow”, Caspian breathed, clearly stunned.

“It’s- It’s not _that_ impressive.”

“It is to me.”, another smile. Quentin believed him.

Caspian offered him his arm. “Shall we?”

Quentin felt a smile grow on his face, helpless against it, and took his arm. Together they made their way down the passage into the tomb.

Entering the large cavern of the tomb was an entirely different experience than stepping onto the field before Aslan’s How had been. Where the field and the How itself had been peaceful and beautiful, the tomb felt haunted by the souls that had been lost during the battles here. Looking at the broken Stone Table he could picture the events that had unfolded here: Aslan laying on top of it, sacrificing himself. The White Witch driving a dagger into his heart. Centuries later, Caspian and the Pevensies, rounding up their troops, preparing to fight Miraz and his army. He felt a chill running up his arms.

“Holy shit”, he whispered. Caspian chuckled next to him.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe that you lived through all of this.”, he turned Caspian, with an awestruck expression, he was sure,” You experienced actual history. That’s mind-blowing to me.”

“I sometimes have trouble believing it myself, trust me.”, Caspian took a step towards him, “It feels so surreal.”

Another step.

“I have absolutely no trouble believing _that_.”, Quentin grinned.

Caspian laughed as well. “Yeah…You know, back then, when I stood right here and was suddenly faced with having to unite an army, that was the first time I ever truly believed in myself.”, Quentin’s gaze was fixed onto his face. He didn’t notice him taking another step forward. “It was the first time I ever had trust in myself, to do the right thing, to do it right. I know I’ll never forget it.”

“Yeah…?”, Quentin breathed, at a loss for words.

“Yeah.”, Caspian nodded, coming to a halt in front of him. _When had he gotten that close?_ “That’s part of the reason why I wanted to bring you here. Mainly of course because you get so sweetly excited about Narnian history but also because I wanted to share this with you.”, his voice had come down to a whisper, his eyes flitting back and forth between Quentin’s and Quentin’s lips.

His hands came up to gently hold his cheeks. “May I?”

Quentin could only nod. _Oh shit._

Caspian leaned down, closing the distance between them and his lips met Quentin’s. Quentin felt a tingle rise up from his toes to the ends of his hair. He couldn’t decide what to do with his hands and eventually settled them on Caspian’s chest. His solid chest. _Fuck_.

Caspian hummed and deepened the kiss. God, it was nice.

But. It was just _nice_.

With a twinge of shame Quentin’s thoughts turned to _that_ night. Kissing Eliot had been like being plunged into a pool of ice-cold water and a furnace slowly heating up your insides at the same time. It had been breathtaking, world-shifting. He had never wanted it to end. Comparing the two felt unfair but his brain did what it wanted.

‘ _Jesus_ _Christ’_ , he thought, ‘ _There’s a hot guy kissing me and all I can think about is Eliot. Why can’t I act like a normal human being for once?_ ’

He tried to re-focus but Caspian was already pulling away.

“I have the feeling your heart isn’t in this.”, he said a disappointed downturn to his mouth.

“I- I’m sorry, I-“, Quentin stammered. ‘ _Get it together!_ ’, his brain yelled.

“No, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”, he smiled. It was a little strained. “I understand. It’s your friend, isn’t it? The tall one, who has been quite broody?”

“It’s a long story.”, Quentin whispered helplessly, “It’s so convoluted and twisted up, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Ah, that kind of story.”

“I really am sorry. I do like you, a lot, I just-“

“Love him?”, Caspian suggested.

Quentin released a breath and sunk in on himself a little. This fucking sucked. Why was everything always so difficult? Couldn’t at least one thing be easy for him?

“I’ve enjoyed my time with you the past week, really. I had so much fun.”, Quentin needed him to know.

“I have enjoyed our time, too. This little hiccup doesn’t mean that needs to stop. We can still be friends, Quentin.”, Caspian’s smile already came a little easier. He was too kind. Quentin didn’t deserve it.

“Thank god”, he breathed. Caspian laughed, almost freely.

“Well then, let’s resume our tour, your Majesty”, he bowed over-dramatically, offering Quentin his arm again afterwards.

Quentin couldn’t help himself, he giggled and took his arm, a routine by now.

“Lead the way, your Highness.”

Caspian let out a breathless laugh. “Oh, I truly hope your friend realizes what he’s missing, moping in his rooms all day.”

“I wish he did, Caspian, I wish he did.”

“We’ll just have to make him see, then.”

Quentin snickered. “Ha, good luck with that!”

And with that they made their way out of the tomb and back up the passage. Their conversation and laughter could still be heard down in the tomb, echoing around the Stone Table and breathing life into the otherwise dark and silent chamber.

**Author's Note:**

> quespian nation, how are we feeling?
> 
> as always, you can check out the highlight with our au videos here: https://twitter.com/i/events/1264638104385646593
> 
> for general magicians x narnia screaming look to @sophistray @wow__then and me, @tinybaekhyuns on twitter.


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